ab imo pectore
by patchinglines
Summary: Hawke has been different, recently. Fenris has his own issues to resolve as well. Post Act II
1. Chapter 1

*[1]: 'ab imo pectore' means 'from the bottom of the heart'

* * *

><p>That night he left, Hawke could remember the sound of the elf's voice.<p>

It was the sound of something broken.

"So, elf," Varric started, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. "Funny story I heard the other day. They've been mentioning a ghostly being that haunts Hightown, possibly a demented ghoul of a life long past."

Fenris took a sip from his mug, frowning at the questionable contents of the ale before setting it back down on the wooden furniture. Not as though the Hanged Man could afford much more anyway, what with all its filth about.

"I can't imagine why such a rumour has been spread."

"Yes, well, your broody presence in the dark of the night is hardly the greatest of concerns right now. Hawke's been really terrible with jokes lately."

"There was a time when he was not?"

Varric rubbed his chin casually before shrugging. "Point taken. But the thing is, we all know that the boy's not going to brood about himself. Instead we're seeing more fights recently. Reckon he's taken down the entire of the damned Coterie by now. Anyhow..."

Fenris waited, being far too used to how Varric decided to choose his words in tactful conversation. He set down his cards facing up, claiming a few more silvers over from the dwarf as they temporarily paused their conversation for the game.

"We thought you could talk to him. Cheer him up a little."

A frown appeared on the elf's face at first, but he contemplated it as he shuffled the cards back into the deck.

"Well, it's either that or Blondie can go-"

"I will.. attempt a conversation."

"That's my boy."

The next time the companions travelled with Hawke, Varric did seem to be speaking the truth. _Quite a rarity,_ Fenris noted, though he knew the dwarf had always treated his friends well. Hawke's words retained their sarcasm, but his words were dry and when Fenris managed to capture a glimpse of his face, he seemed weary.

Their main objective of the day was to clear out some blood mages hiding on the Wounded Coast and discover if there were any other further activity about. Other ill-trained mages first met their attacks, likely new to the art of blood magic. Fenris frowned as he remembered the woman in the Blooming Rose (affectionately dubbed as 'apostitude' by Isabela) and continued on with his blows.

The last warped and shifted before their eyes, a greater danger than the previous few, but even the abomination was dealt with swiftly.

Hawke had been particularly aggressive; fireballs blazed furiously, ice formed with deadly vigour, lightning struck on target and none of the opposing were left standing.

"Well, it seems now we have a report to report on. About all the wounded people on the Wounded Coast."

Varric shook his head, his slight exasperation made apparent. Anders frowned. He was agreeable to aid in removing blood mages, but there are times where he seemed _somewhat_ against fighting people that are still of his own. "Yes, all thanks to you, Hawke."

"That's me!"

Fenris's gaze held onto Hawke, narrowing slightly, but he simply started on the way back to Kirkwall. Such forced enthusiasm was a daily norm- but was he just imagining a note of bitterness?

The day drew on. Only the elf accompanied Hawke to report, since it was closer to Hightown than the dwarf's Hanged Man or the abomination's clinic in Darktown.

The Templar scrutinized Hawke's limbs, as if to find any form of evidence to blood magic, but allowed him to leave after being disappointed with none. In relative silence, they walked back to Hightown with Hawke passing polite smiles to whichever nobles that his mother had made acquaintances of. (Though Fenris suspected that Hawke himself had no idea of who these people were.)

"Are you.."

"Hm?" Hawke turned his head slightly towards Fenris, seemingly curious.

Speaking was difficult. "Are you all right?"

"I'm all left, actually. My right's pretty tired. I think. A lot of staff-waving today." He laughed, but it sounded too hoarse for the elf's liking.

The answer came after a short pause. "Very well."

They were about to reach their respective homes and then they would part. The two exchanged casual goodbyes as how they always did. A relationship had been kept up of what felt like friendship, but the others were not blind to the subtle tension in whatever was left of their romance.

"Hawke?"

His name left Fenris' mouth before the elf could even think about stopping himself.

The man looked back, a brow quirked.

"Feel better." _Please_.

He headed back to his mansion, sparing Hawke the need to reply.


	2. Chapter 2

*[1] Arcanum = language of Tevinter

* * *

><p>The next time he saw Hawke was for his reading lessons. Fenris sat closer than he normally would, his arm barely touching against the other's. If Hawke noticed, he made no comment of it, instead simply moving on as usual with his endless patience and jokes.<p>

So engrossed in reading Fenris had been, that when he finally paused he found himself leaning fully against Hawke. He shifted slightly upon the realisation. However, he found himself to be content, despite that he still did not truly understand such affection, that he still was conflicted over his own feelings.

Perhaps for just this moment, he would retain the peace and move on to another chapter.

A sudden, but slow movement to his side made Fenris stop, looking up to realise that the mage had fallen asleep. He slips a bookmark into the book and shut it.

In the morning, Hawke was still asleep.

A soft voice spoke in Arcanum, a hand ghosting over Hawke's face before pushing the fringe out of it. Some time passed, and it switched back to a more common language.

"Those are not the movements of a sleeping person."

"Good morning to you, too."

Hawke's muscles had gone stiff from keeping still, reluctant to disturb the small affections granted to him by the elf. Fenris stopped anyway, standing to stretch out.

"Quite. I.. apologize. You must have been weary after-"

"Oh no, no, no. It was my decision. Don't apologize. Anyway, don't you feel a little peckish? Could do with biscuits. Or a sandwich."

How Hawke managed to make light of things and smile escaped Fenris, but he would leave it till when Hawke was ready to speak.

"Perhaps a bit of everything."

Surprisingly enough, Fenris managed to obtain some light food from wherever his pantry was. He spoke again when he laid down the plate of food in front of Hawke. "I will listen," he stated as he had himself seated again, then continued on as an afterthought to allow Hawke to catch on. "If you wish to speak."

_Because you did when I had to. Even when it should have been none of your concern._

Hawke laughed, albeit softly and rather nervously, but Fenris maintained his collected demeanour, expectantly waiting a reply.

"Well."

He explained, words still laced with what humour he had, of how he had always taken charge, always the one to be blamed in the end. How he had to care for his family, being in charge after the death of his father, but found himself to fail that one last request. How no matter what choices he made, it always seemed to his fault. As he listened, Fenris could follow up in his thought. He realised it was too easy to blame the Champion, the one influencing figure who lived without any control from the Chantry or the Knight-Commander and also a mage. Anders' careless words had merely added another jab.

It could be why Hawke had never expressed himself in public - the one who hadtaken it upon himself to care for others, to assume responsibility where others would not.

The one thing that Tevinter magisters had never done.

"And then Carver wrote a lovely letter to me the other day, about being in the Wardens and everything. He needs a better sense of humour. Like mine! Well, I'm probably just blabbering! The biscuits are a smashing choice, by the way."

Fenris shook his head slightly. "And you act as though you are perfectly fine."

"Sometimes it is better to."

Such honest words had the elf searching for Hawke's own, wondering. A question rose, but it had latched himself in Fenris' throat.

_What of the day I left?_

Absent-mindedly, his hand moved to the crest on his side, fidgeting with its smooth surface, a thumb playing on the corner. Hawke's eyes followed the movement. Like a hawk, would be how the mage's wit would have made him say.

The question was left unspoken.

Not today. Not yet.


	3. Chapter 3

*[1] vhenan = heart  
>*[2] na sa'lath = your one love<p>

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><p>Hawke seemed better the next few days. He was in higher spirits, at least.<p>

"And making somewhat better jokes. I owe you a drink, elf."

"Coin would serve a better purpose."

"You are a sneaky one, broody. Here, you've earned it."

Fenris smirked as he pocketed his earnings. Isabela began to comment over how she could have made it 'all better' for the Champion by various lewd ways. He bore with them for he knew Hawke was not such a man, not when the elf had already seen his most vulnerable side, how Hawke truly was-

But it was not the time for the mind to wander.

Hawke was kept busy by the many missions he had gone on, favours from friends and important contacts alike, leaving little time alone.

Taking responsibility.

Fenris had dread of speaking of his still confused emotions - He loved Hawke. But he was not an appropriate lover, there was - Fenris hated to admit it- fear, anxiety, and it made him feel weak and paralyzed. In Tevinter, he had been the perfect bodyguard, a mindless tool amongst other uses at the magister's disposal. Here, he was a man of his own, but he could not even understand how to maintain the relationship that had mattered the most to him, when he himself had nothing of his own. He did not remember anything, only vague memories of childish play with Varania, only all-too-clear memories of what life slavery held for him.

A life of misery, shame and working only by command.

Someone so engulfed in such things should not chain someone like Hawke to him.

"-think I could make him ride a dragon, probably, but Daisy rather likes griffins more. What do you think, elf?"

Fenris snapped out of his thoughts and quickly resorted to reach for the closest mug in what he hoped was in a natural fashion.

"Inadequate."

"Huh, if you say so. Joining the diamondback game?"

"No."

The dwarf raised a brow, but did not press the matter. Varric muttered under his breath about brooding and proceeded to join Isabela in the game. Hawke seemed to have entered the tavern sometime before and was seated with them, making jokes worthy of marrying palms to faces.

Fenris instead merely watched the game, but made no effort to move closer. They were just at the next table, anyway. Isabela won the first few rounds before coming up with the suggestion of betting with clothing instead of money, to which Hawke refused flatly, leaving the pirate queen disappointed.

Isabela seemed to have noticed the elf's watchful eyes and her face held a thoughtful expression. Fenris turned away, finding his mug of ale to be far more interesting at that moment.

To his utter dismay, Merrill just happened to be seated at the same table.

"Hawke keeps trying to catch your eye. It's cute," she giggled, waving slightly at the group nearby. Fenris grumbled in reply. "Oh, don't look so grumpy. You two are obviously so in love."

"It is not that simple."

"It could be. You care for him, no? I think that's all we need. Someone to care for and someone to care for us," she spoke dreamily, elbows leaning on her knees as she rested her chin in her hands.

Fenris remained quiet, but eventually spoke softly. "I do not think I can do so."

"Why? You have a _vhenan_. No matter what, it is enough. Is he not _na sa'lath_?" Merrill was gentle with her words, still smiling as though it could have been any other conversation.

"Yes, he is, but-"

"Then that is all that matters. Do not fear that you will hold him back. Hawke will understand. He always does." Then, Fenris could see the years in Merrill's eyes, the reason why the Keeper Marethari had chosen her as First. While foolish in the language of decisions and the power-crazed world, she understood deep emotions far better than most did. "Love is not simply joy alone. You need to understand him, too. Only then can things seem much easier, with that one person to trust."

She let out another childish giggle, the previous show of maturity leaving no trace. "You're making those puppy eyes again."

"I am not."

Later, it seemed that they were done with the diamondback game, (Hawke's luck showed at the end and some of his money was returned) but Fenris had so occupied himself with drinking that he would have to be escorted. He had to lean on the man when they both decided to head back to Hightown. Hawke was entertaining the drunk elf with jokes, hoping that he would not stop laughing or smiling, even if it was mostly alcohol-induced.

He was hopelessly inebriated, but Merrill's words did not leave his mind. Even if she was a blood mage, he had to admit that she probably meant well.

"I'm sorry," he first uttered, but Hawke merely continued escorting the elf home. He somehow managed to bring him all the way back to Fenris's chambers, placing him in bed and allowing him to fumble about with his armour.

"I'm sorry for leaving," Fenris finally clarified, though his intoxicated state did not allow him to focus properly on Hawke.

"It's fine. I thought you needed some space to think, anyway."

They remained silent, the elf bonelessly laying in bed as Hawke eventually got up to leave.

"I.."

Hawke paused.

"I am yours," he whispered, almost inaudible to the man's ears, before his eyelids fluttered and was lulled into sleep.

"I know."


End file.
